Now we have both sides of both amas painted (those are the outer hulls). We had to stop at that because tidal situations are unfavorable for beaching the boat on the bar; we should be able to pick up again around the 24th.

Unfortunately, the blasted porta-bote has already gashed huge scratches into the new glistening paint job. This weekend was a holiday and so two billion rich careless San Salvadorians descended upon the hotel and surrounds and transformed the normally tranquil estuary into a maelstrom of jet-ski and power boat wakes. It sucked utterly; you would think we were back in La Paz during a Norther we were bouncing around so badly. In the mayhem, one of our fenders got flipped and the bote rubbed up against the hull, causing grievous damage. All you “used porta-bote” googlers will be no-doubt on the edges of your seat to read this but alas, we still have no plans to sell the thing.

Did I mention that I managed to be totally sick during this whole weekend deal? A nasty and very painful fever/jolty chills and killer headache that lasted only a few hours at a time but struck a few times during the course of three days. We have decided it is not any of the obvious biggies (Typhus, Malaria, Dengue), just some weird little Central American flu. Joshua got it a day after me but a different variation. We both seem to be fine now four days later. I have to say I never previously had any deep feelings for acetaminophen, but NOW, my god it’s about my favorite thing. The ibuprofin is totally jealous.

Anyway, before we got sick and stuff, we had one day of what, in hindsight, was extraordinary fun for us mostly because it included neither sanding nor vomiting. We went with Santos and a group of the other cruisers in a panga up the estuary for an Outing.

Santos at the helm. He has a panga big enough to fit us all, plus he is a local dude so knows the area and mangrove estuary very well.

Jan’s dog, Smoky, casual barker at mangroves.

A five-star restaurant projecting out from amongst the mangroves; ahhh, lunchtime!

The food preparation area appears to contain everything but a kitchen sink. The place is run by a lovely woman and her three gorgeous daughters. The baby, Reina, has managed to hypnotize Jan with her smile and soon she will use these powers to draw forth treats.

This pathway leads to the, um, facilities, which consist of a modestly shielded log platform. There is a curious tripod of stumps sticking up in one corner with a quasi-hole/largish gap in the log platform; presumably the idea is to plant oneself atop the tripod or else perch over the edge of the platform aiming for the murky depths below. This is extra fun because there is a waterway through the mangroves alongside the platform that leads to a small village. Anyone headed your direction would be provided with an excellent view of your ass, timed just right.

The oldest daughter.

The medium daughter. She took off every five minutes or so in the dugout to check their critter traps. There were about six or so scattered around the platform buoyed with empty engine oil containers.

Reina, Queen of Cuteness.

Checking the traps; they were catching shrimp and crab.

After lunch we headed up to the Rio Lempa to another river joint for additional beers. The place we stopped was a small hotel/restaurant run by a really nice guy who actually spoke English quite well. He served small bowls of crab soup with each beer. Unfortunately we had stuffed ourselves a little too recently on fried fish and shrimp to enjoy it fully.

On the way back we passed these guys who were casting a fishing net in a strong current.

Topsides nonskid ON.

Sweet!

That’s what I’M talking about!

(No, it’s not mine. I wish. It belongs to Jan who was kind enough to pretend not to notice me drooling all over my own shirt while I gushed all over the place about how gorgeous it was. She let me take some photos of it.)

Outer ama hulls painted. I repeat: outer ama hulls painted. This is a good thing. We grounded the boat twice in order for this feat of amazing productivity to be accomplished.

* Hull sides painted: 2; (sides remaining: 4 [motherfucker!])
* Problems beaching the boat using ingenious scavenged stick method (see photos): none!
* Trips to San Salvador required since we started with the beaching: Zee-ro. Zip. Null. None. Nada. (Trips to San Salvador in our near future because we ran out of goddamned paint: 1)
* Times we had to jury-rig something: 4
* Times I burst out sobbing during the procedure: 1
* How it looks: um, okay I guess.

Basically, with thinner, the two-part epoxy paint is mostly manageable. It still dries in about eight seconds, leaving you frenzied and panicked as you paint out of fear that A) it will drip; B) it will dry before you can smooth it in; C) it will drip, then dry before you can smooth it down; D) all of the above plus ugly cobwebs of sticky epoxy paint will go flying through the air. D is the winner here, if you hadn’t guessed but I’ve come up with a marvelous coping mechanism, which is promising myself that we will go to the hotel and have steakburgers (a major splurge) after we finish, even if it is uneven, drippy, and I have epoxy cobwebs in my eyelashes. Worked out okay. The steakburgers were pretty darned good.

Two-part epoxy paint is such a major pain in the ass I really can’t shut up about it. Once it is on the boat it seems pretty bomber—it is incredibly sticky, that’s for sure; sticky enough to last another decade I hope. But mixing the stuff. Argh. First you must mix the cans individually (well, one of them), then scoop equal parts of each—the paint/color and the catalyst/hardener. This part sucks because both parts are very thick—the hardener is the consistency of cold honey but much, much stickier and stringier and one puff of wind and it flies all over the place. What doesn’t go flying about the cockpit in the wind drips all over the side of the paint can and mix-paint receptacle and plastic throw. The hardener is colorless (like honey) and magically spreads itself all over everything; and it is toxic, therefore requiring even more toxic solvents to clean it up. Did I mention that many people, like Joshua, have a poison oak-like reaction to epoxy hardener? This makes it so much fun. Then you have to mix the two parts thoroughly or else it, god forbid, might not work properly (and I would cry). Then it must sit for half of an hour while it does *something*. Then you must mix in the thinner chemical (and mix it well) or else the paint behaves atrociously. A lot of bloody work for just some paint and we haven’t even gotten to the part where you pour it into your paint tray, trying not to let the wind blow the lightweight mostly-empty tray all around while the paint drips all over hell and gone. Oh, and by the way, the paint tends to dissolve all those nice neat foam brushes and rollers that happen to be my preferred painting implement. You have to have some special rollers that aren’t affected by the chemical and we haven’t tried yet, but I daresay they aren’t available in all of El Salvador. Hopefully the few we brought with us from the States hold out. All of the above issues are enhanced by the fact that it is windy and about twelve thousand degrees over the sandbar (this sand is dark gray and can get really hot). And did I mention that two-part epoxy paint with added epoxy thinner makes you high?

So. Tomorrow’s plan was to beach the boat again (we have about three more days of good tidal timing), ready the insides of the amas for painting and sand/scrape as much of the main hull as possible. Except, the generator just stopped working. Again. So, I guess we’ll be taking apart the generator tomorrow. Maybe try to get in a trip to San Salvador.